


Faith & Peace

by blueblood (sangreazul)



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Background Relationships, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Childhood Memories, Growing Up, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Repressed Memories, Slow Romance, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29657613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sangreazul/pseuds/blueblood
Summary: Nathan Drake is almost 18 as he lies still in the night and reflects on everything that brought him to this exact moment: war, school, Sam. He tries to make the night linger, to live in his memories for just a few more minutes, but he can't stop the clock from ticking and with each second he is closer to a changed life.[HEAVILY BASED ON PRIVATE PEACEFUL BY MICHAEL MORPURGO]
Relationships: Nathan Drake & Samuel Drake, Nathan Drake & Samuel Drake & Victor Sullivan, Nathan Drake & Victor Sullivan, Samuel Drake & Victor Sullivan, Samuel Drake/Victor Sullivan
Kudos: 2





	1. eight & a half hours to dawn

**Author's Note:**

> this was my sam's idea to "rewrite" a very important book from our childhood as the drake brothers and to then post it too, so hopefully you guys will like it! (i have a very sporadic timetable, but this shouldn't take me too long to write!!)

They were gone, and Nathan was alone at last. He had the whole night ahead of him and he wasn’t going to waste a minute of it. He wouldn’t sleep it away, nor dream it either. He couldn’t. It meant too much.

He wanted to remember everything, as vividly as if he were living it again. He had nearly eighteen years of tomorrows and yesterdays, and this exact night, he had to remember as many of them as he could. He wanted it to be long, vast, unending, as long as his entire life; it couldn’t be filled with hazy dreams that led him to dawn. 

This night, more than any other night in his life, he wanted to feel alive.

***

Sam took him by the hand, guiding him because he knew he didn’t want to go. Nathan had never worn a tie before and it felt like it was suffocating him. The cotton was itchy against his skin and Nathan wanted to rip it off and tear it into shreds. He didn’t want to go; he’d never been to school before and the gates were high and daunting. He glanced back over his shoulder, somehow hoping that their father would call them back, tell them he never meant to let them go, and they would go back home. But he didn’t come, and he didn’t come, and school and the nuns were getting closer by every step. 

“Piggyback?” Sam asked. He saw his tear filled eyes and Nathan knew that he understood. Sam always understood. He was five years older, so Nathan knew that Sam had done everything and knew everything. He was strong as well, and very good at piggybacks. So Nathan jumped up, and held very tightly to his shoulders, crying behind his closed eyes, trying to remain quiet. But he couldn’t hold back for very long because he knew that that morning wasn’t the beginning of anything - not new or exciting as Sam had tried to tell him - but rather the end of his beginning. Holding on around Sam’s neck, he knew he was living the last moments of his carefree time, that he wouldn’t be the same person when they went to sleep that night.

When he opened his eyes, he noticed a dead crow hanging on the fence in front of him. His beak was hanging open. Was he shot mid-scream? His song had hardly begun. He swayed in the thin wind, his family watching in grief and horror from the trees around them. Nathan wasn’t sorry for him. It could’ve been him that had driven away his robin and emptied her nest of eggs. His eggs. Four of them had been there, alive and soft under his fingers. He had taken them out one by one and placed them delicately in the palm of his hand. He wanted to keep them in their tin, on cotton wool, with the sparrow’s eggs and pigeon’s eggs he and Sam had found. He would have taken them, but something stopped him, something made him hesitate. The robin had been watching him, black eyes boring into his own, pleading. His mother was in that bird’s eyes, long since buried under the earth, with the worms and the damp. Her hands resting on her still stomach, pale and fragile. He had felt those hands willing him not to do it, not to take what wasn’t his. So he hadn’t. Instead, he had watched them grow, he’d seen the first tiny skeletal stirrings, the begging beaks, the high pitched squeaks at feeding time; he’d witnessed all too late the massacre in the early light of the morning. The robin had been staring at him, hopeless and distressed, as the crows fled into the sky cackling and screeching, their murderous deed done. He didn’t like crows. He never liked crows. The crow he saw hanging on the fence in front of him had got what he deserved, Nathan thought.

Sam turned into the courtyard, and Nathan felt himself freeze. His mouth was dry. He tensed closer to Sam.  
“First day’s the worst, Nathan,” Sam said, steadying his own breathing. “It’s not so bad, okay?” Whenever Sam said okay, Nathan knew it wasn’t true. “Anyway,” he huffed out a breathy laugh. “I’ll look after you.” That Nathan did believe because he always did. And Sam did, setting him down, walking him through the boisterous bustle of the courtyard, his hand resting on his shoulder, reassuring him, protecting him. 

The school bell rang and they had to line up in two silent rows. Nathan didn’t recognise the others around him. He turned and realised Sam wasn’t next to him anymore, instead, he was standing in the other line adjacent. He winked at Nathan. Nathan blinked back and Sam laughed. He couldn’t wink with one eye, not yet. Sam always found that very funny. Then he saw Father Duffy standing on the school steps, cracking his knuckles, and the courtyard was suddenly very silent. He had red cheeks, a thinning hairline and wore all black. He had a gold watch open in his hands. His eyes scanned the courtyard.  
“Understand this,” his voice was loud. “Here, I am your master. You do what I say when I say it. You do not cheat, you do not lie, you do not blaspheme. Do I make myself clear?” Nathan watched as the other boys around him nodded quickly. “Good.” They filed past him, hands behind their backs. Sam smiled across at him as the two lines parted: the older boys in one classroom and the younger ones in another. Nathan was the smallest of the younger ones, while most of the older ones were bigger than Sam. Nathan watched him until the door closed behind him and he was gone. Until that moment, he had never felt what is was to be truly alone.

His shoelaces were undone. He couldn’t tie shoelaces; Sam could, but he wasn’t there. He could hear Father Duffy’s voice calling the roll down the hallway, unable to focus on the closer voice of Sister Catherine. She didn’t smile. Her voice was a background drone while he tried to listen to hear Sam’s name be called from the other room; he wondered where he was, who he was with. Why they couldn’t be together. Then Sister Catherine was staring at him. And so was everyone else. He let his eyes focus on her again, staring at her stern expression blankly. “Morgan,” she began, firmly. “You will be sitting over there. And your laces are undone.” Everyone else seemed to be whispering at him as he took his place. All he wanted to do was run, escape, but he didn’t dare. Not without Sam. All he could do was cry. He turned his face from the rest of the class so they couldn’t see the tears.   
“Crying won’t do up your laces, you know.” Sister Catherine said, in a warning tone, waiting for him to take his seat before she continued with the roll. Nathan bit hard down on his lip; he could feel the blood rushing to the surface. Where was Sam? He didn’t want to go to school. Once he sat down, he hauled his feet up on the seat and began to stuff his laces into his shoes, praying that Sister Catherine’s eyes weren’t still locked onto to him.


	2. eight hours to dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hc note for the actual canon: nate always used to have nightmares as a child and sam was always there to comfort him; he got so used to it that he could soothe him when even being half awake himself. the nightmares came back again after sam died but this time!! no sam!!

He didn’t want to eat. Soup, biscuits, apples. Usually he’d eat whatever was in front of him, but not now. A half eaten biscuit lay a few metres from his hand; he couldn’t bring himself to finish it. It was a good thing, Nathan thought, that Sister Catherine wasn’t there. She always loathed them leaving food on their plates. “Nothing can be wasted!” She’d say. But he was wasting it now, whether she liked it or not.

***

There was a boy, Nathan could recall, in Sam’s class, who seemed to be much older, or at least was a whole lot bigger than them both. He used to find it amusing that he could beat the shit out of the both of them without having to try. Sam said, as he dab a wet paper towel over the cuts on Nathan’s face, it was because he was stupid and had nothing better to do. It was true; some kids just enjoyed being bullies and two scrawny kids with no one but each other in the entire world were easy targets. However, no matter how skinny and weak they were, they weren’t stupid and they definitely had something better to do.

It was Nathan’s cunning idea and Sam’s perfect execution that got them both suspended for a week. They’d been walking by the field when they noticed the little rabbit droppings scattered in one area. Sam had posed a light hearted question, “If there was no food in the entire world left, would you eat that?” He laughed. “I don’t know if I could.” As he’d peered down at them, a smirk had begun form on Nathan’s face. “What?”  
“You know who would?” And that was that. 

Sam had put a handful of them in a paper bag and told the kid that they were sweets. Just like that, he had taken them out of the bag and placed them into his mouth, savouring the flavour of each and every one of them. And then they had laughed, he’d frowned and offered them both one. It was when Sam had pushed their luck to tell him that it was a gift especially for him that he’d twigged.

They both got into massive trouble over that. Sister Catherine was so angry with them, Nathan had thought she’d burst. She had made them both eat one each, so that they’d know what it was like. Nathan was still sure Sam had managed to flick his behind him, as Nathan swallowed distastefully.   
“Horrible, isn’t it?” She’d said. “Horrible food for horrible children.” Sam had gone onto say that they were very ashamed of themselves, but that only lasted as long as they were in the office.

Since then, someone only had to mention rabbits for them both to smile at one another and remember. It made him smile now, just thinking of it. It shouldn’t, but it did.

It was the same kid who got him into his first fight. There was a lot of fighting at the school, but Sam had always told him to lie low and run if anything was about to start. Nathan had followed that advice, taken it to heart, but one day, he discovered that sometimes you have to stand up for yourself and fight for what you believe is right, even if you don’t want to.

It had been breaktime and Nathan had been reading by himself in the courtyard. He’d nearly finished the chapter when someone had tapped him hard on the shoulder, hard enough to bruise. It’d been an older kid from Sam’s class. Nathan had recognised him as one of the boys Sam said to steer clear of. “Who’s got a looney for a brother?” said the boy, sneering at him.  
Nathan had frowned, somewhat unable to comprehend what he had just said to him. “What did you say?”  
“Your brother’s an idiot, a looney, insane-” he had gone for him then, fists first, screaming at him. But he hadn’t been on him for long when the boy had hit him full in the face and sent him sprawling. Nathan had suddenly found himself lying on the ground, wiping his bleeding nose and looking at the blood on the back of his hand. Then the kid kicked in the stomach, hard. Nathan had curled up in a ball to protect himself, but it didn’t seem to stop him. He’d just continued kicking him on the back, on his legs, anywhere he possibly could. When he’d finally stopped, Nathan had wondered why.

He had glanced up warily to see Sam grabbing him around the neck and hauling him to the ground. The whole school had surrounded them to watch as they rolled over and over, punching each other and swearing. That had been when one of the sisters had come out, roaring like a raging bull. She’d yanked them apart, taken them by the collars and dragged them off inside the school. Fortunately for Nathan, she hadn’t noticed him sitting there, bleeding. 

Sam had got the cane, and so did the other boy - six strokes each. So Sam had saved him twice that day. The rest of them had stood there in silence, listening to the strokes and counting them. The other boy had got them first, crying out and whimpering in the pain. But, when it was Sam’s turn, all they had heard were the whacks, then the silences in between. Nathan had been so proud of him for that. He knew he had the bravest brother in the world.

After a while, Sam had come back out into the courtyard, hitching up his trousers and grinning in the sunshine. Everyone had crowded around him.  
“Did it hurt, Sam?”  
“Was it on the back of the knees, Sam, or your bum?”  
Sam never said a word to them. Instead, he had walked straight over to Nathan, guiding him over to the water pump.   
“He won’t do it again, Nathan,” he’d said, gently dabbing the water onto his cuts. “I hit him where it hurts, right in the wavles,” he had given Nathan a childish grin. Then he lifted Nathan’s chin and peered at his nose. “Are you alright, Nathan?”  
He’d shrugged. “It hurt a bit,” he’d told him.  
“So does my bum,” said Sam. And they both had begun to laugh.

He often wondered what would have happened if his mother had been stronger; he found himself thinking of her a lot. He wondered if their fights would have been different, if Sam would’ve stayed at his other school and then their lives would have changed. He didn’t like to think of that side too much, the side of what-ifs. Sam had always said it would get them nowhere. So he didn’t. Instead, when he thought of his late mother, he thought of adventure and exploration. Discovery and explanation. They used to have walks together down to the river when the evening was light enough. He thought of violets and snowdrops, tulips and daffodils. There hadn’t been a wild flower or butterfly that she hadn’t been able to name. He had loved the sound of their names as she had spoken them: red admiral, foxgloves, adonis blue. It was her voice he could hear in his head at night. He didn’t know why, but he could hear her better than he could picture her. He supposed it was because of them that she was always speaking, always explaining the world around them. She had been their guide, their teacher.

He could remember the nightmares he used to have about his mother and the boys from school. They were constant, relentless, and they’d always end the same, with him waking up screaming. Then Sam would be there beside him, and everything would be alright again. Sam always made things alright again.


	3. seven & a half hours to dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sully probably has a smaller age gap to them in this???? idky probably like 10 years older than sam and 15 years older than nate

A harvest mouse sat, perched on the corner of the blanket by Nathan’s feet. He was just sitting there, in the light of the lamp, staring at him. His eyes were dark and deep. Wide in shock; he seemed just as surprised to see Nathan as Nathan was to see him. Then he left, and he could hear him scurrying around on the floor. Nathan stilled his breathing for a few moments when he thought he couldn’t hear him anymore. He was right, the mouse was gone. He hoped he’d come back. He missed him already.

***

Sister Catherine hated mice, and all sorts of rodents. She had a deep phobia that she couldn’t hide, so Sam and Nathan had a lot to smile about in the autumn as the rain and the cold arrived, the warmth of the inside enticing the little mice and rats in. Nathan loved the mice, leaving tiny crumbs out under his bed for them when he could. The few times he was caught, he was shouted at and smacked, but that never stopped him. She ended up setting traps around the dormitories, cluttering hallways and corners the small contraptions. Sam and Nathan would always find them first, however, and spring them before any mouse or rat could. The last autumn with Nathan was there, she only managed to catch one.

Sam was eighteen when he had met Victor Sullivan. Nathan was mainly unsure of the exact terms under which the agreement happened, but Victor had offered Sam to live in the small cottage he owned. Sam had told him it was because he was in the navy and therefore was away most of the time and he needed someone to keep the land running smoothly around it. It wasn’t his land, some rich, old man owned it and Victor’s family had been living on it for generations. He couldn’t lose it. Sam had agreed to help the cultivation process and Victor repaid him by giving him a roof over his head. 

Nathan had spent nights begging Sam to let him stay there too, because he could help, and even if food was low and Sam hardly had anything in his pockets, at least they would be together and anything was better than the orphanage. Sam had caved a few months in, and they had spent the winter helping farm the land. 

However, when Victor returned on leave, the food began to grow scarce. Even though he had tried to convince the brothers that it always became that way when he returned, they could both see the toll it took on him. He was working out on the fields with Sam and Nathan, ignoring the fact his leave was for him to rest up. However, despite their best efforts, everyday there was less and less food on the table and they were all becoming very hungry.

It had been Sam’s idea to go out poaching: trout, salmon, rabbits and even deer if they could find any. Their father had taken Sam out poaching a few times, when Nathan was too young, so was assured he knew what to do. Nathan had been on lookout, Sam had been doing the trapping or fishing. So, at dusk, or dawn, whenever they could sneak away together, they went off poaching on the rich, old man’s land: in his forests or his river, where there were plenty of fish to choose from. 

They brought back lots: rabbits, fat salmon and trout. So at least they had something to eat with their potatoes. They couldn’t tell Victor though, Sam said, he’d warned him against disobeying the landowner, and he said they couldn’t risk going against Victor either. Instead, he told him that the salmon must have come to the brook to spawn, which they had done most years anyway. Sam always lied well, and he believed him. Thank god.

When Sam and Nathan had been younger, they used to run across the fields and through the forests when they could. As he was older, Sam always ran faster and Nathan found that most of his childhood was spent watching the back of his brother as he ran through the long grass. By the time they had met Victor, Sam had slowed to walking most places, but was always ready to break into a sprint when Nathan began to run. 

When they weren’t poaching fish or stealing apples off the vast, expansive orchard (more than anything, they loved the danger of it all), the three of them would be roaming in the wilderness of the countryside. Victor had grown up there, and could show them all the quiet spots and climbing trees. Sometimes they’d go down to the river bank and watch the kingfishers shimmer past, or go swimming in the lake by the willows, where no one ever passed. 

He could remember the day Victor dared Sam to strip to his underwear to dive in, and, to Nathan’s amazement, he did. Then Victor had too, and they ran giggling like two schoolboys in the freshness of the cool water. When they had called him after them, he wouldn’t do it, not in front of Victor. So he sat, sulking on the bank, watching them splashing and laughing, somehow wishing he had had the courage to join them. Victor had got changed behind a bush after, making some joke about them not watching, but he was almost certain Sam had. 

It took several days before they had enticed Nathan to join them. Victor stood waist deep in the water and covered his eyes. “Come on, Nate,” he chuckled. “I won’t look, promise.” And dreading being left out again, Nate had stripped down to his boxers and made a run for the water, laughing loudly at the sudden cold. 

After he had done it the first time, it never seemed to bother him again.


	4. seven hours to dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> romance is definitely not a big thing in this story as it mainly focuses on nate & sam's relationship, just thought it'd also be cute to include some softness in that respect too! plus they r a whole lot older than nate maturity wise too

He wasn’t sure he ever believed in God, even as the nuns droned on about him, relentlessly, every day. In the church, he’d gaze up at Jesus hanging on the cross and almost pity him, the pain and anguish he had to go through. He liked to believe he was a good man, whoever he had been. However God was the one he never fully understood. He was supposed to be almighty, powerful, yet he let him suffer, let everyone suffer. He believed then, as he believed in this very moment, that God was very bit as reliable or unreliable as Sam’s or Sully’s word. But he knew he shouldn’t think like that, because if there was no God, there was no heaven. That night, he very much wanted to believe that there was a heaven, that, as Sam told him when they were very young and alone,there was a new life after death, and that they would all see each other again.

***

It was while Sully was away that he first realised they couldn’t continuously push their luck. Up until one particularly cold autumn, they’d never been caught when they’d go out poaching and fishing. They had had a few close calls, with guard dogs patrolling the land, but Nathan had always alerted Sam before they had got close, before they could smell them. However, the very first time the brothers went out fishing, when only needing to feed the two of them, things went wrong, badly wrong, and Nathan could only blame himself.

Sam had chosen a perfect fishing night, no wind through the trees or ripples on the water, so Nathan could hear anyone approaching. He would usually never feel drained or sleepy, and was always able to give Sam plenty of time to get out of the water and make their quick escape when they had to. However, on that particular night, his concentration failed him, his mind had drifted and his exhaustion was finally catching up to him. Maybe he had made himself too comfortable, or maybe the stillness of the night made him more tired, but either way, he was snapped into reality again, sitting up in the tree, a fierce dog barking at the trunk, an even fiercer looking guard next to him. And there was Sam, out in the middle of the river, hauling the nets.   
“Drake boys!” He growled. “Caught you in the act. You’re in for it now, make no mistake.” His voice was gruff and low; it felt like his father’s which made Nathan tear up, perched tensed in the tree. Sam could have left him there, Nathan thought, he could’ve made a run for it and got away cleanly. But Sam wasn’t like that. He was never like that.

At the point of a shotgun, they were marched back along the river to the master’s house, the dog snarling at their heels, bearing his sharp teeth. All Nathan wanted to do was press himself against Sam’s side, hide in his arms and warmth until it all went away, but he couldn’t and he wasn’t ready to show Sam he’d been crying in the darkness. They were thrown in the stables, where they had to wait until the guard fetched the master of the house, with the horses shifting and snorting around them. Much sooner than Nathan would have wanted, the flickering lights of lanterns approached and they could hear the footsteps and raspy voices. Then the master was standing in front of them, in a silk dressing gown and slippers, looking every bit as menacing as the dog. He was shaking his head in disgust as he looked between them when he finally spoke. “I’ve never been more ashamed and disrespected in my entire life. You’re nothing but disgraces, to your name, to Sullivan’s name.” He sniffed loudly, as if it signified importance, and Nathan felt himself move closer to Sam. “Only one way to deal with ruffians like you,” his eyes were stony when Nathan searched them for any sign of empathy. “You’ll come up here tomorrow morning and I will give you the beating you so richly deserve. Then you can stay and clean out the hunt kennels,” he hesitated then, unsure as to whether he was content in his punishment or not. Unfortunately, he continued. “You shall continue to clean them out every weekend until Christmas. That will teach you not to fish on my land.”

As it turned out, they didn’t mind at all because, although the horrific smell clung to them like the wet mud beneath their feet, the hounds were all around them while they worked, their tails wagging, high and happy. They often stopped work to pet and play with them, once Sam had made sure no one was looking. They had a particular favourite called Copper. He was beige with dark brown splotches on his face and feet. He would always stand near them as they cleaned, gazing up in endless adoration. They had to be careful, however, with the master stopping by every other week, telling them to do their work properly. He said it was because he didn’t trust them, but they both knew it was so he could use some insult he had cooked up the night before, about their parents or their childhood. 

Then Christmas finally came and their punishment was over at last. They said their fond goodbyes to Copper and skipped off back to the cottage, shouting curses and swears at the master, just quiet enough for him to remain blissfully unaware. When they actually arrived back to the cottage, they got the best Christmas present they could have asked for: Sully was back with them, in the kitchen, waiting for them to return. He’d been away for close to a year, but his eyes hadn’t lost the same twinkle as they had before. As he smiled at them, Nathan glanced at Sam, expecting him to make some joke about Sully slacking or how they enjoyed the peace without him, but he was staring at him, a light grin on his face, and he had never seen Sam so entranced before. It only lasted a few seconds, then the jokes came flooding in, but Nathan hadn’t forgotten it.

As he thought back he realised that, unknowingly, he had always charted his own growing up by constant comparison to Sam, and then Sully. When he had first met Sully, he had obviously classed him in a different age range to himself and Sam, as they were both still teenagers, and clearly couldn’t be separated. However, day by day, he was becoming more painfully aware of just how far he was behind them, both of them, how maybe Sam had left him in the younger years as he followed Sully. He wasn’t just smaller than them, he’d never liked that but he was used to it, the problem was that the gap between them was becoming more evident. It was widening. The trouble really arose when Sully was on leave from the navy, a long one, a few years at least, so he would work on the fields with them. He and Sam found it easier, as they were stronger, taller. 

It seemed to all happen quite suddenly when Sully was promoted to work in the house, and then Sam followed suit. Nate wasn’t; he was too young, his concentration lacked and the worked he got done did too. Sam and Sully had always been by his side to pick up the slack, but there weren’t there anymore. He had to pick up his own slack. Sully now worked as butler, in the kitchens or around the house, while Sam worked in the kennels again, looking after both the dogs and the horses, which Nate knew he loved. He ended up not seeing much of Sully as the days wore on; they all worked six days a week still, but he and Sam came back much later, leaving him only about an hour to talk before they all went to bed. 

During the nights, as Sam and Nate lay in bed together, Sam just slept. They didn’t make up stories like they used to. Nate just wanted everything to be the same again, for them to be a three, but nothing stays the same. He learnt that then. He knew that now. When he did get to spend more time with Sully, it was on Sundays, and he was kind to him, like he always had been, playful and funny, but he almost seemed too kind, too protective, more like a father than a friend. Nate could see that Sully and Sam lived in a separate world. 

They would talk endlessly about the scandals up at the house; Sam using all his anecdotes to make Nate laugh, them both doing silly voices of the other workers and the master’s family. Nate could tell they tried to include him as much as they possibly could, especially Sam, when he snuck him back pieces of food Sully had stolen from the kitchen or updated him on how the dogs and horses were. Then, one day by the river, Nate had turned and seen them walking away from him, through the water meadows, holding hands. They had all held hands before, sometimes to run, sometimes to haul another up, but that was the three of them. He had known at once that was different. 

He was lying in bed, a few months after, his palms red and sore from the work of the day, longing to talk to Sam, but knowing that he needed to sleep, that they both did, and he shouldn’t try to keep them up. Then suddenly, in the darkness, “Nathan,” Sam whispered, “I’m in trouble.” He heard him roll over to face him, and Nate opened his eyes to try and see him in the dark.   
“What have you done?” He asked him, a nervous laugh on his lips.  
“I’m in real trouble,” Nate could see him chewing at his lip. “But I had to do it,” he stayed silent for a moment, presumably finding the best way to word what he was about to say next. “You remember Copper? The bloodhound with dark spots, up at the house, the one we liked?”  
“Course.” he said.  
“Well, he’s always been my favourite ever since,” he could see him playing with his hair. It was getting long. “And then this afternoon, the master comes by and says that he’s gonna have to shoot Copper. So I ask him why and he says he’s too old, that he lacks concentration now, and he’s no use to anyone,” he sighed. “So I obviously told him not to, begged him, but it was no use,” he was tapping his fingers on the mattress beneath them. “So you know what I did, Nathan?” He did know. “I stole him,” he laughed lightly, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had done. “I ran off with him after dark, through the trees, and no one saw us.”  
Nate almost laughed too. “Where is he now?” he asked. “What have you done with him?”  
Sam stretched. “Remember that old shack up in the woods? I’ve put him there for the night. Victor stole some meat from the kitchen for him. No one will hear him there, with a bit of luck anyway.”  
Nate frowned. “But what will you do tomorrow? What if the master finds out?”  
“I don’t know, Nathan,” Sam voice trailed for a moment, but he chuckled still. “I don’t know.” 

They barely slept at all that night. Nate lay, still, listening out for Copper. If he did fall asleep, he was woken by what he always thought was Copper barking, but it was just a fox. One time it was an owl, right outside their window.


End file.
